Consequences
by blueashke
Summary: Begins immediately after the slushie facial we've seen in the upcoming 2x17 previews. WARNING: Contains assault of several kinds, including verbal, physical, and sexual. No death, but no guarantees about any of the rest of it.
1. Chapter 1

This is a very dark fic. It contains sexual, physical, and verbal assault. I can promise no death, but I do not yet know how the characters will handle what they're going to go through. Reads and reviews are appreciated, but I do understand if this isn't the same cup of tea as you might have expected of me.

The slushie hit Santana in the face with enough force to cause the ice to cut her cheek, but she found out about that later, and only because the video that someone had taken of it showed the blood starting to flow before it cut out. As her eyes filled with the sticky substance, she felt hot tears spring up to join in. Then she heard it. The sound of a fight. Rubbing her eyes furiously, she cleared her vision enough to see a massive dog pile of football players all attacking one another, and a small blonde head shrieking in anger as she ineffectively pummeled at the edges.

Then the teachers burst in and started pulling people out of the fray, Mr. Schuester picking Brittany up bodily and depositing her next to Santana with the order "take care of her," though which girl he was speaking to wasn't exactly clear. The argument they'd been in the middle of was forgotten in favor of taking the opportunity afforded them and escaping to the teachers' bathroom on the second floor. It was the only bathroom with a reliable lock; it was also rarely used, since it was in an out of the way corner.

Once in the room, each girl quickly went to the mirror to look at the damage done to herself, and neither thought to confirm that the other had indeed locked the door. Brittany's hair had been yanked around, and she was starting to sport a few bruises, but nothing spectacular. Santana bit her lip, turned on the water, and stuck her head under the faucet. "Shit, that's cold," she mumbled as she pulled at the pieces of ice in her dark locks. When the worst of it was out, she flung her head back, eliciting a small screech from Brittany as she walked directly into a stream of water coming from long black hair.

"Dammit Santana, be careful. It's not my fault you got slushied." The tone was so un-Brittany-like that Santana turned to stare at her. "What? I didn't tell anyone about what you said. But you did sing to me in Glee; you did tell me you loved me at our lockers. Did you really think no one in this school overheard? I thought you wanted to be with me. Are you ashamed of what you are unless it's with me?" Santana still stood there, dumbfounded. "I know I found my own voice thanks to Britney; if you can't do it without me, you aren't really ready to do it."

All Santana could do was hear the unspoken words. 'How can I trust that you'll really come out and stay there?' "Brittany, I love you. I do. But facing this alone... I don't know how to do it. And if you don't love me, why did you jump on the guys? You saw Puck and Mike and Sam and all of them beating Karofsky down, why didn't you stop?"

"They jumped in to stop me; I was the first one on Karofsky. I didn't say I don't love you, Santana. I said I can't justify breaking up with Artie just because you made one stand. You've run from me for so long. I love you, honey, I do. So much." She'd inched closer to Santana as she made this speech. Now they stood face to face, the smaller girl leaning back against the sink, having run out of room to back up.

Realizing she was holding her breath happened only when dark spots began to appear before Santana's eyes. She exhaled sharply, and did the one thing her heart told her to do - she reached up and pulled Brittany's lips to hers and kissed her. 'She's not pulling away, she's not pulling away, oh thank you God!' ran through Santana's mind as the kiss deepened. Suddenly she was airborne, Brittany's strong muscles lifting her to sit on the sink's edge. She immediately wrapped her arms around Brittany. They'd done this one before. Hands fisted in dark and light hair alike as they kissed hard enough to bruise. Arguments were lost in this moment, in these kisses.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The door burst open as two of the older football players came into the room. Santana clung to Brittany, trying to remember if she'd seen either Joseph or Terence downstairs. She realized they must not have been in the fight; she knew the only reason she and Brittany weren't rounded up with the rest of the fighters had been Mr. Shue's sending them away. "Oh don't stop ladies, it's not like we haven't seen the show before. Brandon's party last year? You two sucked face for a good hour just so we'd take you to Breadstix. Then again, you were wasted, so you might not remember. You didn't follow through on your promises that night though. I think it's time you paid up. That is, unless you want the whole school to know what we just caught you doing. A slushie for a single dyke is one thing, but just think about what will happen when they find out there's a pair of them making out wherever they feel like it?"

Swallowing down bile along with as much of her fear as possible, Santana used Brittany's body to pull herself down from the sink and then linked their hands tightly. "Go ahead and tell, Terence. I love Brittany and no homophobic asshole is going to force me not to show her." She heard gasps in stereo, as the football players and Brittany alike reacted.

"Santana, I told you..." Brittany's words were cut off as the boys seem to come to an unspoken agreement. Joseph, a burly linebacker stepped back to the door and locked it, leaning his back against it and smirking. Terence, a smaller receiver who had a reputation for a mean streak, stalked up to the girls. He grabbed Santana by the head and yanked her from Brittany's arms.

"What did you say to me bitch? Did you actually think you got to express an opinion? You aren't even a fucking Cheerio anymore, slut. What makes you think you're allowed to even open your mouth? Oh wait, you can open your mouth, to do your job." He forced her to her knees in front of him, setting his right foot heavily on the back of her left calf, keeping her trapped there. "Now show me what those whore lips are good for," he said, rudely gesturing to the front of his jeans.

'Breathe, just breathe. You've done this before. With him, even. Turn up the charm, get it done with, figure you and Brit out later. You can do this, Santana. Keep her safe. If he's focused on you, he won't go after her.' Santana knew that while Brittany had probably slept with more people than she had, as far as she knew, the blonde girl hadn't faced rape. Santana at least had come close. 'Be strong for her.' Taking a final deep breath, she reached for the older boy's belt. As her hand touched it, Terence jumped back, backhanding her across the jaw.

"Please, you think I want you to touch me slut? If you've been picking up girls around town, how do I know you haven't gotten some bad ass disease. Good to know you know your place though. I can think of a few less picky jocks who will keep you there. No, I think you just need a little lesson in proper female behavior. And consequences." He really was far more articulate than Santana ever would have expected. "First the action - you playing the dyke with the school bicycle over here." He leered at Brittany, reaching out and palming a breast roughly through her shirt. Where she'd been reaching out to protect Santana before, she trembled and held her ground as he mauled her. "Consequence, me and my boy here get all turned on, but have no one to relieve our tension. Then again, Joe, you want in on this? I'll give you your pick. I've had them both. Preference?"

Joe lumbered over to Santana and sneered down at her. "I've had blondie. I think I'll just fuck this one back to what's good for her." And just like that, he was on her. Santana immediately began to try to get away, and opened her mouth to scream, but a second backhand from Terence quieted her, at least long enough for him to get a grip on her throat. Something snapped in Brittany then, and she broke from her paralysis and lept at the three.

"No, no, let her go! Let her g...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" A rough shove from Terence sent her flying away to land at the foot of the stall in the corner, a dull thud resonating as she hit her head. No longer a sexual play toy, she now became just a background body, a silent witness to the torture of her best friend in the world.

The boys stayed in the bathroom for another two hours. Whenever a teacher approached and knocked, either Terence or Joseph would do a startlingly accurate impression of Principal Figgins, indicating that he had massive stomach issues, and scaring the curious staff member away. Santana knew she should be able to figure out which of them was speaking, but her eyes were both swollen shut from the combination of crying and punches, slaps, and a few kicks from the last time she'd tried to scream.

Her clothes were long torn to shreds, not an inch of her body left undefiled or unbruised. Finally, Terence, who had been taking a third turn, pulled out and backed off. "Jesus Christ, this slut is just used up. I'm done with her, you done?" Joe nodded. "All right bitch, this didn't happen. You and the blonde came in here and got into a good old fashioned catfight. She beat you up, you knocked her down and out. You tell anyone. ANYONE, and next time it'll be the whole football team, and she'll get it twice as good. You understand?"

Dimly, Santana knew that couldn't be true. She knew that most of the guys on the team wouldn't do something so horrible to her, especially not her Glee friends. But in the moment, all she could do was think of protecting Brittany, her most precious possession 'no, not possession. She's your friend, your love, but she's not yours'. So she bit her tongue and lied. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just, please, could you find me something to wear? No one will believe nothing happened if I'm naked in here."

"Sorry, slut. That's your problem."


	2. Chapter 2

*I hate switching between internal perspectives as I go along, but I'm having to give in because there's too much going on here. So it'll no longer be completely from Santana's internal POV. Sorry if it gets confusing.*

The door banged shut behind the two boys, and Santana let herself drop down and cry for a few minutes. But she couldn't let it go on for long. She knew that if Brittany had been unconscious this long, it was going to be bad. So she relocked the door for the moment, and crawled to where the blonde lay facing away from her. As she reached out to touch the still, still body, Brittany rolled over to look at her, eyes swollen and red from two hours of silent sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I'm...I'm so sorry, he threw me, and I hit my head, and when I woke up I couldn't move, I was so scared and they were HURTING you and there was nothing I could do and oh I love you, I love you, but you must hate me now, I hate myself Santana, Santana, Santana, Santana..." her voice trailed off as she broke down again, each girl reaching for the other and holding tight, ignoring the pain in favor of reconnecting with loving flesh and heart.

"Shhh, shhh, Brit, baby, I did it to keep you safe. They just would have hurt you more, I can take it. Come on, let's use the shower, then figure out something for me to wear. Can you stand?" The girls helped each other up slowly, Brittany doing more of the holding up than she let on. Thankfully, the teacher's bathroom had a tiny shower stall. Brittany helped Santana to lean against the door and started the water. "I'll go find you a towel and some sweats," she said softly.

She knew what she had to do. Slipping from the bathroom, Brittany made her way to Coach Sylvester's office. Their former coach had been willing to risk Brittany's life once, but she never had genuinely wanted them to be hurt, and had told Brittany a secret earlier that year that had led to her trust. The past summer, Santana had nearly been raped by one of the boys from the football team. She'd never told who, but Coach had told Brittany in an effort to help her get her friend to the point where she could admit to the situation and get him out of the school and behind bars where he belonged.

"Coach Sylvester! I have to talk to you!" Brittany called over Becky's head, seeing that the Coach was sitting at her desk, writing in her journal. "It's about Santana." 'Please let her listen to me, focus Brittany, remember why you're here. Use your words.' "The guy on the football team..." This made the coach look up. She gestured dismissively. "Let her in Becky, and go home. I'll talk to you tomorrow, good work today."

"Thanks Coach!" the small girl said brightly. "Goodbye Brittany, I hope your head feels better!" Brittany was confused until she noticed red dripping down from just above her left temple. Grabbing a tissue as she walked past the now empty reception desk, she pressed it over the wound, hoping the coach wouldn't notice.

"Now Brittany, you said it was about that football player? I take it this comes on the heels of what can only be described as a brawl in the middle of my school by those neanderthals? Did Santana finally say who hurt her? Tell me!" Sue stopped, seeing the blood soaking through the tissue, taking in the bloodshot eyes, and realized that this was more serious. She softened her usually antagonistic voice. "Brittany, what happened? Is Santana okay? Are you okay?"

"San..." Now that she was here, Brittany realized that she maybe should have told Santana what she was going to do. "Santana will be mad at me... but she's hurt, real bad. Some guys..." she was pulled to her feet as Sue grabbed her hand and started from the room. "They found us in the teacher's bathroom upstairs." A reversal of direction, and they were now heading the right way. "They threw me across the room, thought I was unconscious, but Santana... oh God Coach I'm going to be sick..." And she was, right there in the middle of the hallway. Coach just kept pulling her along until they reached the door.

"You go in first, Brittany. Prepare her. Don't let her shower..." at the terror in the young girl's eyes, Sue ran a hair through her hair. "Okay, get her out of the shower, don't touch anything, and tell her I'm coming in. I'll go grab a towel and... and something to cover her." She strode away, knowing the teacher's lounge always had a few sets of clothing left behind from various events. Brittany bit her lip and opened the door.

The shower was still going, but she could see that Santana hadn't actually made it into the water yet. The small Latina was curled up under the sink, back against the corner, clutching her knees to her chest and sobbing loudly into them. The noise from the door brought her out of her little world, and she shrieked, even though Brittany was still a good ten feet away from her. "Get away, get away, no no no no no no no!"

"Santana, honey, sweetie, it's me. It's your BritBrit. I'm here baby. Come here, I won't hurt you, shhhhh." Brittany slowly made her way across the room, finally kneeling down in front of her friend 'face it, you love her, idiot'. "Coach Sylvester is getting you... what?" Brown eyes locked with blue ones, and Brittany swallowed hard to gain strength. "Coach Sylvester is getting you some clothes and then we are going to the police."

"Brit... don't you know that they'll hurt you? We can't stop those guys, Terence's dad is a city councilman! They won't take the word of two of the school sluts over those fine... upstanding men," the last words came out in an angry splutter. "You need to tell Coach you got it wrong, that I was just having some fun and went a little overboard. Don't let her come in here, please Brittany, I can't let Terence get to me again..." she trailed off as she said too much.  



	3. Chapter 3

*If you've read this far, thank you. It gets better from here on out, I promise. Okay, a bit more, then better.*

"At last, the truth comes out," she heard boom over her head. Sue walked in, eyes carefully averted, holding out a set of sweats and a WMHS t-shirt to Brittany. "Sand bags... Santana, I know we've had our differences, but just like I couldn't understand why you'd get breast implants, I don't understand why you wouldn't tell me sooner. Did you really think your coach had so little clout in this podunk town? Please, Marshall Jeffries is a blowhard, but even he won't stomach Terence doing this. Look at me." Santana peeked up from where she sat, the t-shirt draped over her entire body, as she had curled her knees back up and pulled the shirt down over them once she was dressed. "Santana, we. Will. Get. Him. Now, did you shower?" At the headshake, she gave a small sigh of relief. "Good, because every piece of evidence helps, and from what I can see, well, there's plenty of it."

Brittany blew her bangs out of her face as she helped her best friend to stand. She was starting to feel a bit woozy herself, if she thought about it. Two steps later, the blood loss and what had happened really caught up with her, and she and Santana went down in a heap, right against the coach. Inordinately strong arms caught both teenagers as they slumped against her. Backing up a few steps so as to be as close to out of the crime scene as possible, she lowered the pair down to the floor together. "Brittany, you take care of Santana. Santana, you take care of Brittany. I don't care if you're not Cheerios anymore, you always support a teammate." She knew the girls had been having problems. She'd long ago come to the conclusion that the smaller brunette had conceived a power love for her willowy best friend. But for now she focused on their ingrained obedience and loyalty to the team, letting them let the heartache fall away. "I'll be right back." As she started back to the door, she heard the girls both start to whisper encouragement to each other.

The moment the door shut behind her, Sue was running. She hadn't seen any teachers she trusted when she grabbed the clothing, and had wanted to pass that on first, and get a good look at the mess that those football boys had created. Now she sprinted for the choir room. No matter their feuding, Will Schuester was a good man, and he would know what to do. As she burst into the classroom, she could see that the kids there were themselves worse for wear. All five boys were nursing various wounds, and Will himself looked extremely stressed. "William, I need to see you outside." She saw the look that crossed her colleague's face. "No, it's serious, it's about my former Cheerios."

Quinn looked up from where she was comforting Sam, assuming that Coach Sylvester had come to blame him for Santana and Brittany getting into that fight. But as she watched through the small window in the now closed classroom door, she saw the blood drain from her favorite teacher's face. The two bolted in separate directions, and she thought she had seen tears start to stream from both sets of eyes. Suddenly, the events of the past summer came rushing back to her. She knew the look she'd seen on the coach's face before. "Oh my God, you guys someone got to them." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She, of course, had known all along of what Brittany and Santana had been up to. They'd roomed together at enough competitions after all.

"Quinn?" Sam asked, turning to face her fully. His eye was blackened again, and his hand was taped from slamming it into another player's jaw, but his eyes were all concern. "What do you mean 'got to them'? To who? Brittany and Santana? They're..." he stopped, realizing that the girls, once a staple in the back grow, hadn't come to class. In fact, he hadn't seen Santana in Chemistry, or Brittany in Algebra. "I haven't seen them since the fight. I thought they maybe just went home together."

"That's what I thought," chimed in Mercedes, echoed by virtually all the rest of the group, save Artie.

"I saw Brittany take Santana off to the second floor. I thought she just wanted to be away from me and to help Santana clean off. They never came back." He looked around the room as Puck, Quinn, Finn, Tina, and Mike all gasped. "What?" The other five knew what was on the second floor, having made use of it more than once in the past. Rachel, Lauren, and Mercedes knew of the bathroom, but none of them had ever been inside. Sam, still being relatively new, was completely clueless.

"We gotta go get them!" Puck cried impulsively, leaping to his feet.

He was nearly to the door before he heard Quinn call back to him, "No, Puck, wait!" He turned, starting to protest. "If Coach and Mr. Shue are already on it, it's too late for us to help. We'll only be in the way. Boys, you go break into their lockers, get their keys, and drive their cars home. Artie, you stay here in case they need to know where we all went. Girls, with me." The former head cheerleader overrode all attempted arguments and stormed out of the room, trailed by her four fellow Glee girls, enraged and on the warpath.

First stop was the girls locker room, to retrieve armloads of soft towels and the clean clothing that she knew both Santana and Brittany had stockpiled in here in case of an eventual slushie facial. Next, they ducked back over to the lockers to grab other personal belongings that the girls might want or need - Brittany's favorite stuffed duck (a present from Santana, Quinn knew, though she wasn't supposed to), the pink bow hairband that Brittany had given Santana last Christmas, and their cell phones. Finally, they were headed in the right direction, though Quinn knew she was running out of time; she could hear sirens far off in the distance.

Stopping outside the bathroom door, she turned to look back at the girls with her. "Don't ask questions. Don't freak out. Don't TALK, Rachel. Hug them if they'll let you, get them dressed in their own clothes, but make sure they know we are here for them, no matter what. I'll explain later if you need it." Steeling herself against whatever she might find in the room, she opened the door. "S? B? It's Q and the girls. We're coming in."

Two steps in, all her good intentions faded away as she beheld the sight of the room, blood and other substances pooled in a few places, and her two oldest friends huddling in the far corner, hiding behind one another.

*I'm sorry, I can't write anymore tonight. I'll try to get the rest of this up as soon as possible. I know this is a terrible place to leave it. Don't hate me!* 


	4. Chapter 4

*Many thanks for the encouraging reviews!*

Quinn felt frozen as she stared at the girls on the floor. 'Come on, be the leader. You can do this.' Stepping carefully around the messes on the floor, she walked towards her friends, speaking softly to them. "Santana, Brittany, we're here. It's us, you're safe now. Nothing more is going to hurt you, no one is going to hurt you." She kept up the low level encouragement as her fellow Glee girls trailed in behind her, Lauren staying back and watching the hallway.

Brittany was the first to look up. "I... I'm okay, I just hit my head. It's Santana. She... Terence..." she couldn't finish it, she broke down into tears. Tina and Rachel both went to her, while Mercedes and Quinn focused on Santana; each pair getting down onto the floor with the other girl. Rachel grabbed a few paper towels and dabbed at the cut on Brittany's head, while Tina held her hand and whispered soothing things, both girls following Quinn's orders to not ask questions.

Mercedes and Quinn were trying to help Santana get re-dressed, but every time one of them touched her, she flinched and almost screamed. She didn't seem to see them there, only to sense hands on her, hands that weren't Brittany. "No no no no no go away, I won't tell, I'll be good, I'll be good, just don't hurt her, please can't you see I'll do anything, anything!" The stream of consciousness confessions and promises explained more to the group than she meant to, and Mercedes eyes got very wide. She'd presumed that Santana had been beaten up, but she hadn't realized the extent of the abuse, given the clothing the dark haired girl was wearing. As she looked more closely, she noticed the sizes were all wrong, and understood more.

"Quinn, this is... this is bad," she said under her breath, noticing that Quinn was biting so hard on her lip that she was starting to bleed a bit herself. A quick nod from the blonde confirmed that she'd known it would be. "What do we do?"

Before an answer could come, Lauren called softly into the room, "People coming... it's Mr. Shue, Coach Sylvester, Ms. Pillsbury, and what looks like cops and paramedics. Should I let them in?" She didn't get a response before it was too late, and the she was moved aside to let in the adults.

"All right, ladies, we need to get these girls to the hospital." Sue said. Her heart warmed as she noted Quinn's obvious leadership as the girls looked to her before hugging their respective charges and standing up. "You can give your statements to the police in a little while, with whatever you know. Right now, this is more important. William, you're in charge of keeping this room off limits so the crime team can do their work. Pillsbury, you're the guidance counselor, so give these children some guidance!"

Quinn stopped to talk to Mr. Schuester, explaining about the boys, the cars, and the items she and her friends had brought the pair. She transferred her arm of clothing to Brittany, who was being placed in the first gurney. "Make sure she knows we love her no matter what, Brit. You can get through this, but only together."

Knowing that she'd let her best friend be raped while she lay still was washing Brittany with waves of shame, regret, and anger. "I... I didn't stop them. I let them hurt her, she can't want me anymore, I don't deserve her." Tears once again started to flow as the paramedics began to push her down the hallway. "Tell her I'm sorry, Quinn! Please, tell her I'm sorry." She was gone, taken to the ambulance.

Quinn looked after her friend, wondering how this all became a clusterfuck so quickly. She didn't have time to ruminate on it long, because the paramedics were trying to get Santana on a gurney, and she wasn't having any of it. "NO NO NO NO NO NO don't, please don't, NOOOOOOOOOOO!" came the screams, as the EMTs did their best to gently extricate her from where she was clinging to the bottom of a sink. The fight was back in her at least, in Quinn's opinion, a better situation than the dull look she seemed to have when not being touched.

"Wait, let me try, please?" She stepped back into the room. Going down on one knee in front of her hurt friend, she pitched her voice into head cheerleader mode. "All right, S, you need to get on that gurney so we can get things DONE. We can't win if we don't get you to the hospital, and we want to win above all else, right? RIGHT?" Once again, obedience ingrained by years of cheerleading resulted in compliance. Quinn didn't let the EMTs help though. Taking the Latina's hand gently in her own, she helped her to stand and walk the two steps to the waiting gurney. The sweatpants were far too big, and were threatening to fall, but she couldn't bring herself to pull them up, knowing the touch might set Santana off again. She settled for just getting Santana sitting quickly. "There, now lay back, and let these nice people take care of you. Coach, can I go with her?" At a nod, she tossed her own keys at Mercedes. "Mercedes, can you get my car back home? I know you've driven it before."

"Sure thing, and I'll grab your books and stuff. We'll see you at the hospital." Mercedes stated that last as a fact, knowing that no member of the Glee club would fail to be there by the time the sun went down.

Quinn turned and followed after the now rapidly moving gurney, holding Santana's hand as the EMTs adjusted the wheels so they could carry her down the stairs. She saw Artie sitting outside the choir room as they came near and called out to him, "I'm going with her, talk to the girls," before he could ask her anything. Dismissing the boy from her mind, she focused all her attention on keeping up a running stream of encouragement to the girl in the gurney. "Okay, we're almost out of school... we're gonna get you in the ambulance, and I'm right here, no no, you don't need to get up. It's okay, shhhh, it's okay." Over and over she repeated herself, but the only words she could understand from Santana were 'no' and 'Brittany'.

"Brittany's already on her way to the hospital - no, she's fine! Just got a bump on her head, she'll be with you soon, I promise. Shhh, shhh." Never in her life had Quinn expected to find herself in this situation. But she knew she had to be strong.

As the ambulance pulled away from the curb, she whispered a prayer to the universe. 'Please God, whoever you are, if you're out there, they didn't deserve this. I'm sorry for all the bad things I've done, but not even Santana deserved this, please, make her better, and Brittany, she never hurt a fly! Please oh please...' 


	5. Chapter 5

***Trigger stuff coming up again in this chapter, including a further description of what happened in chapter 1. Sorry***

She didn't feel a response. She knew she wouldn't most likely, but her heart sank as once again, Santana began to cry out. Quinn hadn't noticed the female police officer climb in with her - making the back of the ambulance quite crowded with the three of them plus the EMT trying to do his job. "Ms. Lopez? I'm Detective Erika Masters. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Can't you see she's in pain? Can't it wait?" Quinn knew from watching crime shows - her secret vice - that it was necessary, but instinctively she wanted to protect her friend from everything. "I know some of what happened, can't you just ask me?"

"You're her friend?" At a nod, the detective gave a small sigh. "Look, I know she's hurting, but no, you can't tell me what happened unless you were in that room with her and you aren't the right blonde. What's your name?"

"Quinn Fabray."

"Okay, Quinn, I'm going to try to talk to her, and I need you to hold her hand, and see if you can get her to answer me. I need you to not answer for her, because down the line, people might try to say you put words in her mouth and that would make it very hard to convict the assholes who did this. Deal?" The young girl nodded. "All righty then, let's get started. Her first name is Santana, right? Okay, Santana, can you hear me?"

"Please, Santana, you gotta focus." Quinn was getting more and more worried as Santana only mumbled to herself and cried. Despite the image most people seemed to have of her friend as being unflappable, they always seemed to convincingly forget just how often the Latina cried at nothing. She might make it out of a room, but tears weren't something that were unknown. But this was different. The tears seemed unending, and rather than the big dramatic sobs that usually came along with them, she was nearly silent as they flowed down her pretty face and soaked the sheet on the gurney. "I need you to talk to the detective so we can make you safe."

Time seemed to have no meaning to Santana. She was stuck in a neverending loop of what the boys had done to her, replaying the words, the pain, and most of all the threats against Brittany. When her clothes had been torn off of her, Joe had shoved his hand between her legs, commenting, "See, the little bitch loves it, she's fucking soaking wet." She knew it was because of what had been happening when they walked in the room, but she started to question herself as her legs were spread apart and the football player and begun raping her. Didn't she deserve this? Hadn't she done this with boys before? Was she really capable of real love or was this all she was worth?

_For some reason, Joe enjoyed forcing her to look at him as he thrust into her. Every time she tried to close her eyes and let her mind drift, he'd slap her, grab her by the neck, or just shake her hard enough that they flew open and were locked into him. She hadn't been kidding when she'd told Brittany that she felt it was better without eye contact. She could diassociate her body from the violation, but looking at him, she could see the anger and hatred in the older boy's eyes. So she gathered her courage, and tried to give him the patented Lopez stare down. "That all you got, little man? I can take anything you dish out."_

_The kick to the ribs came from Terence, now standing over her and stroking himself as he watched the scene play out. "You're gonna regret that, slut. Joe, turn her over; I know one place she won't have a disease. Bitch wouldn't give it up last summer, but she will now." The sensation of one beneath her, and the other above her was momentarily confusing, as she remembered a drunken makeout session that involved Puck, but the ripping and burning sensation that assaulted her next threw that from her mind entirely._

_She understood then. This wasn't about them being turned on, this was about hatred. This was about last summer with Terence, even though she hadn't told anyone but Quinn. Quinn, who had promised not to tell, but then Coach seemed to know, and then Brittany, and why did everyone think that it was all about her boob job and why did she not tell and oh it hurt it hurt it hurt... her thoughts couldn't focus anymore, so she hid them. She found the safe little hiding spot in her mind where it was always Glee club with Brittany, singing and dancing, and loving each other with no one else to bother them._

_But as the rape went on and on, the little place inside of her grew smaller and smaller, until she felt Brittany disappear (blondie's next time, slut, so you better open your mouth or it'll be NOW), and she lost her last line to sanity. Blood and fluids collected around, in, and underneath her, but she was gone; gone away to the little girl in the corner because she'd hit a boy who said something mean to her new friend Brittany._

"I don't know what to do Detective Masters. She won't talk to me, she just keeps saying stuff about Brittany," Quinn said, tearing her gaze from her friend. "Do you think when we get to the hospital we can put them together? Trust me, it's the only thing that's going to calm her down. She loves her."

"I need to get the initial statement first, but after that, yes, I think that can be arranged. There's not really a lack of evidence here." The ambulance was pulling up, so she and Quinn backed up so the EMTs could extricate a still crying Santana from the rig. "Look, I know your other friend is hurt too, why don't you go find her in the ER, see if you can boost her spirits while they take Ms. Lopez back for the exam."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Quinn had been about to agree to the suggestion, but at Santana's outburst, she raced to catch back up. "Quinn? Quinn? Where's Brittany? Is she okay? Why did they say she's not here, where is she, what's going on? Oh God..."

'At least she's back in the present,' Quinn thought to herself. "Shh, Santana, it's okay, I'm right here. Brittany's going to be fine, the doctors are looking at her head, she's just not here in the room with you. Nooo," the darker girl had started to drift off again, eyes glazing, "no, you stay right here Santana Lopez! I need you to stay awake, stay here for Brittany." She knew she needed to use this, even as she recognized it would cause her friend no end of pain in the short run. "What happened, Santana? The detective needs to know. Just tell her what happened and I promise you can see Brittany. But you have to make it through this first. Be strong for her! I know you can do it."

The fog was lifting more and more, as Santana struggled to see through her swollen face. Quinn was right by her, seeming to know she needed to lean in. "She's okay?" she whispered. "They... Terence and Joe didn't get her? He threw her so hard... she was there on the floor and I thought she was dead and oh God Quinn I can't be without her..."

"Good sweetie, yes, tell me more of what happened. Yes, Brittany's okay. She hit her head a little but she's going to be fine." Quinn knew that even if she was wrong, she needed to be very firm on this point for now. She noticed that Detective Masters had come in. "She's starting to talk, Detective. Can I stay, please? She needs me."

"Just call me Erika, and yes, as long as you don't talk for her," the older woman said gently. "Santana, I only heard the end of that, can you tell me the names of the boys again?

Santana looked up at the new face, blurry though it might be. "I... I can't. He said they'd hurt Brittany if I told. Just because I can't have her doesn't mean I want them to hurt her... please, you have to keep her safe!" She reached out, grasping at Erika's hand. "I promised her I'd keep her safe. I don't care about me anymore..." The tears began anew as the panic in her voice increased.

"Santana, I need you to look at me." A few sniffles, and a swipe of the back of her hand across her eyes, and the girl was still again. "I can keep you BOTH safe, but you need to tell me, right now, who did this to you. The faster we get after them, the faster this can all be over. You have got. To trust me. Okay?"

Santana hated trusting people. She'd trusted Quinn with her secret last summer, as well as the breast augmentation surgery that kept her away from having to be near the dangerous boys again in the final few weeks before school. Quinn had told. She'd trusted Brittany to be there when she was ready, and she wasn't. Brittany had chosen Artie. But now... now she was broken and hurt and she just couldn't hold fast anymore. She bit her cheek, and decided.

"Their names are Joseph Carson and Terence Jeffries. They... they raped me. Terence touched Brittany, and then threw her across the room when she tried to defend me from him. Terence Jeffries tried to rape me last summer, but he told me his dad would get him out of jail and so I didn't tell and oh God, it's my fault! If I had told..." she trailed off as a new wave of guilt hit her. "If I had told, none of this would have happened."

Her heart broke all over again.

***So the '5ish' is gone from the listing, because I've realized that however long this thing is going to be, I'm certainly not done here. Reviews keep the creative juices flowing!***


	6. Chapter 6

***Some of you asked what was going on with our other characters as this was happening. In this chapter we'll touch on that, though I do want a lot of the focus to be on how Santana is processing, hence staying with her as much as possible. My other issue comes from having to decide whether or not to try to get in the Glee guys' heads, as I have no idea what guys are thinking. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it helps a lot!***

***Special thanks to Charlucianayo (aka JThresh) and my dear Whitwhitxoxo (who requests I mention is all about Dianna lol) for inspiration, help in focus, and comic relief as I tried to name the stuffed duck.***

"Brittany? Brittany, come on back to us. Brittany, it's Mr. Schuester, your parents are on their way." Brittany felt a strong hand pat hesitantly at her arm as she woke up. Confusion came to the fore of her brain as she wondered what Mr. Shue would be doing in her bedroom, followed by fear and panic as she remembered what had happened. She sat bolt upright, causing a wave of dizziness.

"Santana? Santana! Mr. Shue, where is she? Is she okay? The boys... don't let her not tell, she has to tell, they... they hurt her and oh I couldn't get up and I'm so scared..." If there was one thing she knew, it was that this was going to end. She couldn't have secrets anymore, especially not about this.

"Brittany, whoa, slow down," the teacher answered, trying to remain calm himself. "The doctors are looking at Santana now, and the police are talking to her. I just got back from the room they've got her in down the hall. Well, from trying to go to the room she's in. The detective is taking her statement, so they wouldn't let me in. But if they're talking to her, she's going to be FINE. You need to stay here and give them your statement when it's your turn. Just tell the truth, okay? I know you're scared. But whatever happened in that room," here he took a deep breath, "whatever happened, you have got to tell every detail you can remember. I know you get fuzzy sometimes, but this is for Santana, and you always seem to remember things best about her."

Brittany knew he was right. For whatever reason, she'd always been able to focus on what Santana said or did better than most things. She nodded slowly. "Okay. Can... can I see her? I need to tell her some stuff. And I gotta do it soon, before Artie..." she trailed off, realizing that she should probably talk to her boyfriend first if possible. "Is Artie here?"

"No, the last I saw he was still at school, but I'm sure most of the Glee club will be here as soon as they can. Do you want me to send him back when he gets here?" That same, slow nod came again. "All right. I'm going to go watch for your parents." Her eyes fluttered shut again as he got up and slipped out of the room. As she shifted her weight to get comfortable on the narrow bed, she felt a small weight roll next to her. When she picked it up, she found Mr. Hat, her stuffed duck. Santana had bought him for her long ago, after she'd confused 'ballad' with... well, she didn't remember what she'd confused it with, but it had become a joke with them. She slept with him every night that she wasn't with Santana, and carried him to her locker at school when they were fighting. She smiled as she held him close, and drifted off to sleep.

Somehow the fates contrived that the remaining Glee club members all arrived within moments of each other, despite coming from several locations. Artie was the second to last to arrive, having had to wait for his dad to come with the van for his wheelchair. Right behind him was Finn, who had swung by his house to pick up Kurt. Once all of them had assembled in the waiting room, they bombarded Mr. Schuester with questions. Before he could answer any of them, Quinn emerged from behind the ER doors, looking at once haggard and relieved to see her friends.

"They're both going to be okay," she blurted out, knowing that this was the most important question she'd be asked. "Brittany's asleep and they're taking Santana back for more X-rays." She barely recognized her friend anymore. As the Latina had talked to the detective, Quinn had had a chance to really focus on what had been done to her. The bruises were darkening, and as they began to photograph them and the lacerations, she'd begun to feel sick. There was very little space on the smaller girl's body that didn't have some kind of injury to it, and the doctor was already discussing how many ribs had been broken, and if surgery would be needed on the broken wrist they'd realized she probably had.

Quinn had stuck her head in to talk to Brittany, only to see that her duck was tucked safely into the blonde's arms as she slept peacefully. She was still holding on to Santana's headband, as they had yet to wash the blood that had gotten into her hair. For now, it was enough that one keepsake had been passed on. She'd promised to tell Santana how Brittany was doing, but when she overheard one of the nurses mentioning the crowd that had just arrived, she rushed out, knowing it was her friends.

"Will somebody PLEASE tell me what's going on?" Kurt broke into the babble that had started up around him. "All I know is that I'd just come home from Dalton when Finn swoops in, tells me we're going to the hospital, and that he'll explain when we get here! What happened to Brittany and Santana?"

The room was silent for a second, then they all began talking at once. Quinn stepped forward and pushed the others aside. "I know the most, let me tell him." She looked around, realizing that they weren't exactly in private. "On second thought, Mr. Shue, we're going to go outside, can you let us know if anything happens?" At his nod, she gathered her troops, feeling like Rachel when she used to lead the club around by the nose. She led them to a space down the sidewalk, where there were benches for people who came outside to smoke or just to sit and think about their loved ones inside the large brick building. She steeled herself as she decided what to say, realizing that with Artie there, she had to choose her words carefully.

"Karofsky slushied Santana, and Brittany and the boys all jumped him and the football team. Mr. Shue sent Brittany and Santana to get cleaned up, and that was a few hours ago. The girls know kind of what happened next, they saw them. Two guys found them in the teacher's bathroom and they... they raped Santana, and beat the crap out of her. They just knocked Brittany around, and I think they thought she was unconscious or something, Santana wasn't really clear on that one." She stopped to catch her breath. "I don't know what set them off, exactly, but Santana was protecting Brittany, I know that. All she would say on the ride was that it was her fault, and that she just wanted to save her. I think... I think she let them do that to her so they wouldn't do it to Brittany." She realized that she was crying as she spoke, the images replaying in her mind's eye over and over.

Each member of the club had known something of the situation, but to have it laid out in full was more than a little overwhelming. Tina sat on Mike's lap, tears streaming down her face. Lauren and Puck seemed to be restraining each other from taking off after an enemy. Mercedes and Kurt were huddled in on one another, with Sam, Rachel, and Finn just staring in shock from the bench they all unconsciously had sat down on together. Artie realized in that moment just what Santana must have been hurt for, and why she'd been protecting *his* girlfriend.

"She loves her," he stated simply. All of the pieces began to fall into place. The party line comment about sex last year, Puck's comments at Breadstix, the way they looked at each other, and of course, that song they'd sung with Ms. Holliday. But since that day, they'd been distant to each other, not even speaking so much as a hello if they could get away with it. "And Brittany chose me for some reason."

A collective gasp came from the group. They'd all had their suspicions. Heck, most of them knew some part of the girls' story. Only Quinn had known for sure. "Yes, Artie, Brittany chose you. She told Santana that she couldn't be with her because it wasn't right to dump you. That said, you need to get your head out of your ass now and let. it. go. Because nothing, NOTHING you could ever do for Brittany would compare to what Santana just went through. And you need to find a way to let her know that without being a dick about it," she said firmly.

At any other time, Artie knew he'd have fought the revelation that his girlfriend was loved by the biggest bitch in the club. But with the way Quinn was talking, it seemed like she loved her back. "So, what, does that mean that Brittany loves her too?"

"Um, duh!" It came out in stereo, as every last club member answered him at the same time.

He knew when to admit defeat. After all, he'd known it had to be inevitable. Besides, he wasn't sure he couldn't keep from commenting on her non sequiturs for much longer. Santana always seemed to be able to make sense of them. He realized now why that was. "All right, I'll tell her. But how do I do this? I don't want her to think I'm dumping her because of what happened."

"You'll figure something out, Artie," Quinn responded, glad to at last not be keeping secret the feelings she knew her friends felt for one another. "Anyway, Santana told the police who hurt her, but I'm not telling right now. I don't trust you boys not to do something rash, and they need to be arrested. They're going to talk to Brittany when she wakes up. Now then, we need to figure out who's staying here when, because we can't let them be alone. It's just not right."

Given a concrete goal to work towards, the teens leaned forward and began discussing logistics, for the moment letting the tragedy their friends had faced slip from their focus.

***Okay all, I'm so sorry for the delay. I'm hoping to be back on a regular schedule after this. My roommate was injured the day my last part got posted, and he was stuck at home for weeks, taking away valuable writing time. With the hiatus ending in TWO DAYS I'm going to try to get a bunch of this out before then. Thanks for sticking with me, and remember that while reviews are love, recommendations to other people are even better! (I get all giddy when I come across someone reccing me without knowing I saw it)***


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